


you can lay your hands on me

by birgit8789



Category: Emma (2020), Emma - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M, Morning After, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28951155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birgit8789/pseuds/birgit8789
Summary: Three newly-married couples explore and reflect upon their lives as husbands and wives the morning after their weddings.
Relationships: Frank Churchill/Jane Fairfax, George Knightley/Emma Woodhouse, Robert Martin/Harriet Smith
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40





	you can lay your hands on me

He had not even opened his eyes when he noticed a lack of a warm body in bed next to him. Opening his eyes to find his wife delightfully splayed out, wide awake, in a chair across the room, a ghost of a smile danced across his lips. "I should hope that I have not scared my wife off after one night of being together," George Knightley said from his place in bed, voice thick and rough with sleep. He adjusted himself to a sitting position, despite objections from his tired body.

"Not at all," Emma purred, rising from her chair, "my husband has caused me enough pleasure that I have found that I cannot leave him quite yet" The sun pouring in from the window shone through her thin, loose chemise as she sauntered towards him and provided an attractive outline of her naked form. 

"Hm," Mr. Knightley seized her hand once she drew near and pulled her onto his lap, where she could feel his excitement. "Now, that simply won't do." Trailing his hand onto her waist, he brought her as close as he could. He pushed aside her falling blonde waves and drew her in for too-chaste kisses onto her exposed shoulder. He murmured, "I must convince her to delay her departure by quite a bit."

~

Jane Churchill woke engulfed in the warm embrace of her beloved husband, pressed against his bare chest. Husband. The word tasted unfamiliar on her lips the day before and still felt foreign now. No longer mere acquaintances or a secret affair, but married publicly, she was no longer Ms. Fairfax.

She was his Mrs. Churchill.

Thinking back to all those forbidden brushes of hands and stolen glances, Jane cherished his tight grip even more as if it could be taken from her in an instant. Briefly pressing her lips against the forearm of her husband, Jane allowed sleep to take her once more, smiling at the life promised to her at Weymouth.

~

The first time Robert Martin woke up that night, he found himself facing the back of a sleeping Harriet. His chest swelled with adoration (and a bit of pride) at the vision of her sleeping in  _ his  _ bed, having spent the night together. 

Even in his delirious state, he couldn't help trailing wandering fingers down the curve of her spine, nestling his face into her tousled hair, and just embracing the feel of his wife. Whispering words that he had only dreamt of telling her during the months after her rejection, The comfort of Harriet allowed him to drift into dreams filled with pleasurable memories and hope for his future.

Harriet Martin was a very light sleeper, so it was the attention of her husband that woke her up for the first time. She bit her lip to keep herself from gasping at the cool touch of Robert and fought to keep her heart under control, praying that the dark of the night hid the red heating her skin at his stroke. Praying he didn't notice her awakening, she listened, unresponsive, to his slightly slurred words and felt excitement pooling with her.

Pressing her eyes shut in an attempt to continue her dreams, Harriet failed at her seemingly simple task, feeling feverish both physically and emotionally. Robert had brought out this side of her when he took her into his arms last night and guided her through their wedding night. Turning slightly to face the cause of her restlessness, her condition worsened at the view of his bare, broad figure.

Harriet felt warm and anxious. Oh! How had she ever believed she loved anyone but him? She contented herself by rubbing small patterns against his large hands, hoping he woke again soon to take care of her newly-discovered needs.

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive me, but this is my first attempt at writing somewhat close to the regency. I know I said my last fic was my last one for a bit, but I actually think this one is. I shirked my duties for the day to produce this. Hope y'all are staying safe!! :)


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